


Don't let the boss see that!

by Illidria



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Arkward!Olivier, F/M, Fun-fic, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Model AU, Modern AU, two dumb and attractive people pinning a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 23:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14224059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illidria/pseuds/Illidria
Summary: Was working for a catering service her dream-job? Of course not. And she'd not set her eyes on modeling either, yet here she was, clad in only a bikini and next to the most handsome man she'd ever seen. Live is cruel, only when it's not.





	Don't let the boss see that!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NorthernWall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernWall/gifts).



> Hey NorthernWall, you said Model Miles and, well... here he is^^ Everything else is my wild imagination and a pretty unlikely scenario, but at least I made Olivier feel awkward ;) I really hope you like it :D

"I bet he's using the money this earns him for university."

Olivier snorted.

"You think he is going to _university_?!"

Patricia next to her sighed, clapping a hand on her shoulder.

They just got done with refilling the buffet and had carried a set of bottles of different the most usual beverages from their van. The crew on this one was nice enough, as they weren't treated as garbage for a change, yet she somewhat loathed all of this. Knew that she ought to thank Patricia for the opportunity and the money earned, though with every asshole she met this became harder to do.

"Olivier," her friend made it sound tired, but there was also a small smile to hear. "Not every model on this planet is dumb as fuck. Yes, some are, but not all. And at least you get to look at pretty people, so try to enjoy it!"

She huffed.

"Like _he_ is your type Patty. I thought you'd rather dig this other model that is to show up?"

Patricia snickering, hand now lifted from her shoulder and pocking her side.

"She is very beautiful, don't worry, but she was at that shot with Mustang too. That job when you hadn't worked for the company yet, you know? And she acted like such a diva, it was hard to stand! But what to expect from a woman who gives herself the alias “Lust”, huh?"

Olivier with one last glance made sure that everything was in place, before turning back to her friend.

"So, she's not your cup of tea?"

The petite blonde snickering at that, the crew nearing.

"She's nice enough to look at, but I'd rather stay clear of her. She was the one that emptied her plate over Buccaneer!"

They took their stands close to the table, Olivier at least feeling like she was suffocating in the uniform. White and long-sleeved, the apron black and knotted tightly, her hair drawn back into a tight and high ponytail. And that while all the crew-members wore shorts and shirts. Not even the mental image of Buccaneer, her two metres tall colleague with a black mohawk, getting thrown food at his head could pull her out of her bad mood.

She had to give it to Patricia though, the guy was at least good looking.

He was an Ishvalan, his white hair reaching his shoulders and falling freely. They'd styled it so it would look like he'd been at the beach all day, saltwater making the strands twist and turn. His abs spectacular, though he looked less like a typical bodybuilder and more like someone who'd earned his money with hard physical labour, his broad shoulders not followed by a narrow waist, but rather an all-around muscled middle. The typical V-shape pointing down apparent, forcing her to look at the swim-trunks they had him shoot in all day. A small trail of white hair leading downwards, her slipping concentration caught by one of his hands reaching up, getting rid of a pair of designer-sunglasses.

His eyes boring into hers through the throng of people, the colour not clear from where she stood, though the intensity of it she felt.

Olivier handed out beverages, listened to the idle chit-chat of the people around her. Patricia next to her was doing the same, though talked too, always much more suave in situations like this. The catering service they worked at, Briggs Inc., often at photoshoots or movie-sets, Patricia working for it since starting college. _She’d_ only started working there after Patricia vouched for her, the pay okay and most of the people nice.

Pretty good-looking too, though that particular thought was interrupted.

"Excuse me? Is there more of the lemonade in the van?"

The confirmation that his eyes were as red as what she knew about Ishvalans suggested, threw her brain out of its usual and well-functioning loop.

The man's crew saved her, giving her time to gather herself and ignore Patricia’s grin from the side.

"Miles, lemonade? Shouldn't you swerve such things?"

He laughed, the skin around his mouth and eyes slightly creasing. She'd not thought it possible that he could become any more attractive, and yet here he was. Noticed that there was sparse white hair on his chest and arms, that his legs were strong and lean. That his teeth, revealed by a smile, were white and perfect and that he smelled good. She did not know of what, but it was good nonetheless.

His voice having an even and pleasant timbre when he answered the man from the crew.

"Well, I work thirty hours a week and all time that’s left after that is spent studying for my master. I need the sugar, or I would keel over!"

Was able to enjoy his laugh once more, before he turned, looking at her with an intense gaze. All her preparation leaving her when he addressed her directly again.

"So, getting back to that lemonade? You got more?"

She nodded brusquely, his smile not at all easing her up.

"I... I’ll get you some," the pause forcing her to realize _what_ she just said, hurriedly talking some more. "Some lemonade I mean!"

Turned on her heel, felt the puzzled look at her back, heard Patricia’s snickering and tried to heed it no mind.

He wasn't dumb. He wasn't ugly either, was making a masters and worked besides this model-thing he seemed to have going. Patricia’s rambling from the drive to this location, an East City Villa with pool, ringing through her mind, that he'd been found by mere chance when working at a building site, that he was a rising star. Yet, while Olivier had been confronted with a wide array of famous and beautiful people during her work, nobody had given her pause like him.

Or meddled with her ability to form coherent sentences.

She breathed deeply, grabbing two bottles of lemonade from the back of the van, looking into the dark interior, unseeing.

_His name is Miles and he is very handsome. His smile is kind and his eyes seem like they look into your soul._

Breathed once more before lifting the bottles up and into her arms, a sound coming from behind her.

"Do you need help with that?"

She screamed, though hoped that the sound of bottles bouncing on the bed of the van drowned that out.

Turned around swiftly though, yet again confronted with red eyes, now wide, perfect lips forming and “o”.

"Oh my gosh, I'm sorry! Did I startle you?"

Was already reaching past her, getting a hold of the rolling bottles and putting them upright.

Her mind was barely able to catch up, the space between them almost non-existent after her sudden turn.

"No, it's alright, really! I..."

Did not get further in her rambling, because Miles took a step back by himself, his eyes still a bit narrowed, though his expression had changed from surprised to worry.

"It's awful that they make you work in such uniforms in this heat, you're bound to feel ill that way sooner or later. I mean, I'm wearing only swim-trunks and am practically melting!"

She could see that he only wore swim-trunks, was even more hyperaware of it after his words. Tried not to look at the beads of sweat rolling over dark skin and failed miserably, though Miles still managed to sound so kind, catching her eyes with his yet again.

If he'd noticed her staring, he wasn't letting it on.

"I'll talk to the boss, so your dress-code can be eased up on for today. And when we start shooting again, you should stay in the shade."

Olivier did not know what to say, was probably gaping like a fish out of water and felt the heat rush to her cheeks at that. Not willing to look like an utter fool though, she pushed it down and forced her mind to think straight.

"Thank you. I found your lemonade too, so we should head back now, or my co-worker will be mad."

Tried to smile at Miles, which probably crumbled to a pressed and bitten lip, yet he smiled brilliantly at her, even trying to take the bottles from her hands. Did not manage to, Olivier aware that this would be frowned upon, yet he insisted on walking back with her.

Talking casually.

"It was your colleague by the way, that asked me to follow you. She said that she feared you'd faint because of the heat."

Olivier almost tripped, mentally noting to hit Patricia over the head later. And instead of throwing her friend under the bus, she was proud of herself to utter a fairly normal answer, almost turning his one-sided conversation into a real one.

"It is incredibly hot today, I really don't know how you do it."

To which he laughed, again, something that seemingly came easy to him and made something inside of her leap with _something_.

“I was born in Ishval, so I’m used to the heat here. I like it even, though honestly, being allowed to dip into the pool makes it a lot easier!”

Their walk back to the set short, the lemonade than taken from her hands and half-empty after only a few minutes. The crew then grabbing Miles attention back, who waved at her when pulled towards the mask, Patricia by her side not two seconds later.

“He flirted with you?!”

She huffed, now feeling even more embarrassed at her ineptitude when talking to the man.

“He didn’t! He just wanted to be nice, that’s all!”

Olivier knew Patricia for several years now and the woman got wound up in topics easily.

“The one with extra vanilla flavour he likes the best, huh? You’re the only other person I know of that likes this kind of drink! You told us that it was a good idea to buy it for the shoots!”

“Patricia, that’s just a coincidence!”

“Yeah sure, because he just all the time follows the catering-people to their van to pick up a bottle of lemonade!”

That exact moment in their quiet, yet heated, discussion was used by a crew-member to inform them that the woman in charge of this shooting had allowed them to loosen their dress-code for today, with the promise that they’d not get in trouble with their boss.

Miles walking out of the house, a fresh and differently coloured pair of swim-trunks on, winking in her direction.

Patricia whispered, faux-exasperated.

“Now you have us _strip_ for him?!”

She shoved Patricia hard for that, but they both still lost their aprons and popped the first few buttons of their blouses, the air hitting her skin feeling heavenly.

Watched, Olivier trying to not listen to her friend’s taunts, while more pictures of the handsome Ishvalan were taken, in swim-trunks getting smaller and smaller. Knew that her face reddened a little bit when he winked at her, though tried to not let on how he made her feel. For a whole minute even was sad that she wasn’t the gushing kind of girl, because she’d have loved to tell Patricia just why Miles was so handsome right now.

Her friend would listen of course, not swinging that way or not, but she still couldn’t bring herself to do it. Though to herself, that she’d much rather tell Miles how handsome he was, preferably when they were alone.

Pulled out of her thoughts when a woman entered the outside-area, big and imposing, a foul mood wafting from her in waves.

“Where is that little wench?!”

Patricia nearly whimpered next to her.

“That’s Madame Christmas!”

Olivier had heard of the woman of course, had seen pictures in the glossy magazines Patricia was so fond of. Madame Christmas only contracted the most important of models, was one of the lone managers admits a sea of model-companies. When she wanted you, stardom was almost sure.

“She’s not come in yet, Ma’am.”

The crew was timid around the Madame Olivier noted, though nobody cowered in fear. The woman though, clad in a burgundy costume and her hair drawn up in a tight bun, took a long drag of her cigarette before she spoke.

“Did Solaris send someone a text then? Maybe you Miles?”

The Ishvalan, shook his head, feet still in the pool after the last set of pictures taken.

“No Ma’am, at least not to me. Not since she’s become adamant about being called Lust.”

Another long drag of cigarette was taken, the Madame letting her eyes wander through the place, looking at the parts of her crew that were checking their phones and then shaking their heads at her.

Eyes, dark and calculating, stopping at her, seizing her up thoroughly. After only a moment, the Madame stood in front of her.

“Does your skin look like that everywhere?”

Olivier felt her brow shoot up while Patricia next to her gasped.

“What kind of question is that?”

The Madame looked a tad bit more displeased then before, the crew behind the imposing woman gasping.

“The kind I ask when one of the most well-known models of these times does not show up to a photoshoot and I need someone that can substitute!”

She narrowed her eyes.

“How do you know I’m the right one for that? Not to mention that my boss would be furious!”

The Madame almost laughed now, though it was without mirth.

“Your eyes are fierce, and I did not get where I am now without a good eye. When you look good in the bikini we’ll get good pictures of you. And don’t worry about your boss: He makes a ruckus, I _buy_ him!”

One question sailing through her mind when the Madame led her inside, nothing yet decided on.

"What will you pay?"

She tried not to feel like she was selling her body out, yet she knew that if the woman said the right number, rent and tuition a constant issue for her, she'd accept without hesitation. The dark eyes of the lady searching hers for a moment, cigarette shifting from the left to the right corner without being touched or smudged with lipstick.

"I'll give you five, _when_ you look like I think you’ll do in the bikini!"

She was and sounded exasperated.

"Five bucks?!"

"Five grand!"

That stunned her into silence for several moments, though Patricia’s gestures in the background were unmistakable. The Madame in front of her shuffling only a little, necklace glittering in the light.

With a small start Olivier noticed that the woman really seemed to _want_ her to take the pictures.

"When the pictures sell, you'll get more!"

She nodded, already calculating how often she could pay rent with five grand, putting her nagging doubts to rest with an easy question.

"So, five grand no strings attached?"

The woman nodded and so did she.

"Ok, I'm in."

Things went pretty fast after that, her attire changed and after a quick look-up by the Madame, which felt uncomfortable nonetheless, she was ushered to a woman who did her hair.

“They are printing out the contract now, but you shouldn’t worry dear, just read it thoroughly and then sign when you’re okay with it. The Madame is not the kind to trap people with a piece of paper.”

Olivier felt queasy, wondering if she’d accepted too fast, but still knowing that she really needed the money, her rent on extension already, other debts waiting to be paid, too. A dreaded question soon coming when she was handed paperwork, signing it.

The lady doing her hair, a Miss Hughes, asking kindly though.

“You’re an Armstrong dear? From _the_ Armstrong’s?”

She gulped once, though was alone with the woman, wanted to justify her decision not for those who’d seen how readily she’d accepted, but mostly for herself.

“Yes, I am. The one removed from the family after that big scandal, before you ask. I’m at college, the job is paying okay, but not much and I’m kind of tight on money and…”

Her inane rambling, usually so unlike her, stopped with a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Dear, don’t you worry to much. You’re with the Briggs Inc., right? That swine Raven never paid more than minimum wage anyways. And you know, Miles down there did it for the money at first too! It’s not rare at all, so don’t feel bad.”

Felt weirdly encouraged, even more so when Miss Hughes smoothed out her hair, unbound and a bit wavy now, one last time, speaking again.

“For all that it’s worth: You’re a very beautiful young woman, looking healthy and self-confident. The Madame does not allow pictures to be touched-up, so you’ll be a good role-model. And now go out and show them how it’s done!”

And she did, walking outside self-assured, straightening and pushing her shoulders back. Felt weird still, clad in just a bikini, yet tried her best to follow the photographer’s instructions. The man was patient, the Madame’s suggestions much easier for her to understand though.

Less and less given as the minutes went by, the knowledge that she was earning five grand right now, enough to clear all of her debts, with such easy work to boot, making her feel light.

During a break Patricia rushed to hug her, was excited for her and talking endlessly about how nice everybody here was. That Miles had talked to her while she’d been busy with the shoot, constantly commenting on how amazing he thought her to be.

And as if that hadn’t been enough to turn Olivier speechless again, the Madame then announced that they would shoot together now, after they’d changed into other pieces of swimwear.

Things went downhill from there.

Every time Miles touched her, careful and timidly, goosebumps rose and she made a face. Her posture folded in on itself, her stance seeming unnatural according to the Madame. Olivier felt that the crew and the photographer were becoming more frustrated by the minute, understood, that these five grand weren’t earned easily at all.

And through her awkwardness, another picture ruined with a fluke expression, Miles spoke up.

Olivier fearing for the worst for a few seconds, that he wouldn’t be willing to work with her further, had enough from her inept fumbling.

“What do you study?”

His question, quiet and kind, catching her off-guard. Answering him out of sheer confusion.

“Um, engineering as a master and art as a minor.”

Let herself be led by his hands into a position, the camera clicking.

“Awesome, that’s an interesting mix! I hopefully manage to finish my master’s in history soon, though I think I took up too many languages on the side.”

Turned to look at him, noticing how close they were and yet not thinking too long about what to say.

“Which did you take? Or should I ask how many?”

His smile easy, cool, the words of the photographer only barely reaching her, their talk seeming more important.

“Four, and I want to manage a degree in all of them. Though engineering must be hard too, right? Not many women?”

For a moment she wondered why talking to him had been so hard before. He’d only turned more handsome to her as the hours passed, but as she looked into the camera she felt that she’d just accepted that as a part of his natural charisma by now.

“Only few, but we manage. Juggling work and studying at once is a bitch though!”

Their talks flowing freely, easily, neither the photographer nor the Madame stopping them from talking. The constant clicking of the camera sounding with every move that came more and more natural to them, Olivier barely noticing how they changed from lawn to the side of the pool, more and more skin touching.

Their topics having changed, their clothes three times since then, too.

“And then she started to throw her food at the guy from the catering, I felt so sorry for him!”

His arm wound around her waist, pulling her close, though his words had her eyes stray from the camera. His red orbs intense, boring into hers, while the clicking in the back became almost constant and the Madame was muttering something.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I know the guy?”

Their noses almost touching, her brain telling Olivier that their skin was touching from foot to shoulder and her mind not registering it, however much her neurons fired this bit of information.

Miles lips pulling into a grin at her words though, forcing her own to follow, laughter erupting.

Not soon after the Madame called it done for today, the sun going down in the west, the crew packing up. Miles talked to some of the others, knowing them well, while the Madame clapped her on the back before Patricia could tackle-hug her.

“Not bad for a first-timer, not bad at all. You two look good together.”

Her mind then only registering how _close_ she’d been with Miles; how nice and wonderful he’d been through all of that. Patricia then overloading her with physical contact, hugging her tight, gushing about how _amazing_ this was.

That she should ask Miles for his number, or better yet, just drive off into the sunset with him. That Patricia wouldn’t mind packing up by herself, but only if it came to the latter.

And while a weird mix of embarrassment and pride was flowing through her, Miss Hughes led her inside, brought over her uniform and showed her where she could change back.

The room only seconds later also occupied by Miles.

They were divided by a curtain while changing out of the clothes for the shoot, though their talk picked off again only after a few moments of abashed silence, Miles the first to say something over the sound of clothes piling up and being unfolded.

“Gosh, that was the hardest shoot in a good long while.”

Olivier feeling guilty immediately, though not shy to express it.

“I’m really sorry that I made it so hard for you with my inexperience. If you’d have worked with…”

Her voice, her guilt, cut short by his laugh.

“Please, it wasn’t hard because of _that_! But you were so distracting even before we started shooting together! Like, you got that air around you?”

She peeked past the curtain, looking at him with narrowed eyes, while he only stood there in a pair of well-worn jeans and nothing else, his white hair still hanging open. His eyes locking onto hers and holding his palms up to her in silent defeat.

“Okay, that came out wrong. I did not mean in it in the you-smell-bad kind of way, but rather the you’re so amazing I couldn’t think straight kind of way! When they told me that you’d shoot with me, I was ready to jump out of my skin!”

Olivier hiding behind her curtain again, this time letting the blush come, allowing her heart to beat faster. The words practically falling from her mouth without second thought.

“Well, as you noticed I turned into a bumbling mess when shooting with you, or just being near you if I’m honest. So how about we exchange numbers, so, you know, we can practice until we meet again?”

His laughter only coming after a short moment, the sound she heard through the thin cloth suspiciously sounding like someone victory-fisted the air.

“I’d like that, there’s so much more I want to know about you!”

Her own laughter now coming, again coaxed out by him.

“Can you give me an example?”

“Well, I heard you only did this shoot to pay for university?”

She took these words coming back to her in good humour and laughed with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. The goal of it is to make commenting easier for readers and to increase the feedback writers get. As such, I invite you to leave:
> 
> _Short comments_   
>  _Long comments_   
>  _Questions_   
>  _Constructive criticism_   
>  _Reader-reader interaction_   
>  _extra-kudos as <3_
> 
> I cherish all comments, weather they be long or short, even only one word makes me squeal with happiness after all. And if you’re seeing this fic ten years after I published it, don’t worry: Old or new, I’ll still love what you left me to read <3 I answer to all comment btw, though it sometimes takes me a day or two. Should you not want me to answer, just write _whisper_ in front of it.  
>  I thank you for reading this fic of mine through to the end. As I said, I appreciate all comments and kudos and should you want to get into direct contact with me [this is my tumblr](http://illidria.tumblr.com/). There you can get into discussions with me, or even send in wish-fics.  
> Happy reading and thank you <3


End file.
